The Unauthorized History of Panem
by Eruantalon
Summary: We know what Panem is; where did it come from? Surely everyone hasn't forgotten the US Constitution, have they, when there're still Presidents and Cabinets about? How'd they justify the Games? And why in the world is its name the Latin word for "Bread"?
1. Chapter 1

**The Unauthorized History of Panem and the United States**

**DISCLAIMER:**

Three cheers for the First Amendment! This story is written in full confidence that the case Suntrust v. Houghton Mifflin (268 F. 3d 1257 (2001)) quite correctly declares that even "an encapsulation of _[a copyrighted work]_ [that] exploit[s] its copyrighted characters, story lines, and settings as the palette for the new story" is still protected under the First Amendment even "if its aim is to comment upon or criticize a prior work by appropriating elements of the original in creating a new artistic... work," so long as it "adds something new, with a further purpose or different character, altering the first with new expression, meaning, or message," rather than simply trying "to avoid the drudgery in working up something fresh." In short, "The fact that _[the author]_ chose to convey _[his or her]_ criticisms of _[the original work]_ through a work of fiction... does not, in and of itself, deprive _[the new story]_ of fair-use protection."

- Eruantalon

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter The First<br>**

Panem arose out of the ashes following the War of Global Devastation. Washington City was radioactive ruins; the Desolation of Bohr stretched from Sacramento to San Diego; the Desolation of Fermi paralleled the Atlantic from New Haven to Newport News. Static blanketed the airwaves; shock waves had snapped almost every power and telephone line. Most government bodies had simply slid away into nothingness. One of the few states which continued to keep records was Maine: we can track the daily meetings of the State Legislature futilely passing resolutions, striving to contact first the country, and then the state, finally surrendering their expectations and trying to preserve order in the city of Augusta, and then finally adjourning sine die when food supplies ran out without hopes of getting more. Their last words echo through the ages wherever their Journal is read.

Into this chaos stepped Arnold Milhouse of Grand Junction, Colorado. Like every other local strongman, he dreamed of reuniting the United States. Like many others, he had enough force to control his town and surrounding farmland but little else. Unlike his competitors, he had beside him Fredrick Baxter, former graduate student in political science at the University of Colorado - one of the few scholars who had managed to survive the chaos. "Panem et circenses," Baxter kept repeating to Milhouse. "That's what the Romans did, and everyone else agrees: give the people bread and circuses, and they won't care what your government's like. Of course, in times like this, all you really need to give them is bread."

So, after several years, Milhouse was able to spare enough force to cross the mountains and conquer the ranches of Wyoming. To his chagrin, the moment he announced they were now part of the restored United States, the ranchers challenged, "If these're the United States, when do we get to elect people?"

Milhouse's first impulse was to kill them, but Baxter's repeated advice stayed his hand. "Then I won't call this the United States anymore," he said later that day. "Baxter - what's that maxim you keep saying I should give the people?"

"'Bread and circuses'? But bread alone -"

"Bread. Great. What's that in that other language you use?"

"'Bread' in Latin? 'Panem.'"

"Perfect. Forget about the United States; I'm now President of the Nation of Panem!"

* * *

><p>By President Milhouse's death, Panem had conquered everything from Yellowstone to Four Corners, and from the Salt Lake to the Continental Divide. This was decidedly the most Panem's military could effectively control; except for a decision Milhouse had made almost as an afterthought, there it would have stayed until it broke apart from old age. However, there was a University of Panem at Grand Junction. In Milhouse's last years, the University turned to weapons research; under his successors, it bore fruit. Armed with poison gas and specially-bred monsters ("mutts," they were dubbed, a contraction of "mutation"), the armies of Panem swept from sea to shining sea.<p>

Thanks to Baxter, they bore not only weapons but the Constitution of the United States of America. Most people still valued the ideal of America, he pointed out; they would be more loyal to Panem if President Milhouse promised to restore America at some indefinite future time. All Presidents of Panem paid lip service to this pledge. It is unknown how people reacted or how much they believed it.

What Panem actually did was quite different. Thirteen Districts were established (in the land conquered after Milhouse's death; those first conquests were now declared a Capital Territory) roughly equal in population, to aid in distributing food and other necessities. As Panem's control grew, their District administrators guided (gently when possible; by force if necessary) each district to focus on a certain aspect of production. This was meant to aid centralized control and discourage rebellion; however, it is dubious whether it actually helped any atop Panem's other repressive measures.

Through all this, the Panem government kept up the rhetoric that it would restore the Constitution of the United States at an appropriate time. Virtually everyone was surprised, however, when newly-chosen President Vernon Conifar declared that the time was now come! After two dozen immediate secret meetings with the political establishment, President Conifar revised his plan to move gradually: in ten years, legislatures would be elected for the fifty states. (Actually, of course, Alaska and Hawaii had never been reconquered. The traditional number of fifty would be made up with parts of Canada.)

The first acts of the new state legislatures were to improve living conditions in the Districts. The second acts were to inquire into the national government's finances. Stunned, President Conifar ordered the state legislatures to confine themselves to local affairs. New Hampshire in the lead, numerous legislatures refused to back down. Conifar ordered them dissolved; in response, they named electors to choose a President and Vice-President of the United States.

Thus began the Dark War, afterwards styled the Dark Days by Panem loyalists and the War of the Great Tragedy by nearly everyone else. The several states had the support of nearly everyone in the country, but it was Panem that had the armed forces and transportation network. From the first Battle of Pierre onward - where a small division of Panem soldiers held out for two days before running out of ammunition and being swamped by a large mob of civilians - it was clear that the states' defeat was only a matter of time. The states' hastily-collected army marched over the Great Plains, only to meet Panem's forces at Laramie, Wyoming, in the foothills of the Rockies. Panem destroyed the states' apparently-hidden supply caravan in the first minute of battle (having learned its location through genetically-engineered spy birds). Knowing their planes and battle-machines would run out of fuel shortly, after which Panem would have them at their mercy, the states' commanders pressed the attack. Surely, they thought, we could resupply from Panem's bases? Perhaps they could; they never found out. Zeal could not substitute for training, nor desperation for fortification. Panem easily held the mountains until the states' fuel ran out and then swept down to massacre the now-defenseless attackers.

The Battle of Laramie was an unmitigated disaster. The states' only trained army east of Grand Junction was now no more. The western army (much smaller) tried to turn back now, but Panem swept down and destroyed it at Copper Canyon in the Nevadan desert. Thus, major military operations in the War of the Great Tragedy ended after less than six months.

Still, things could have gone far worse, as everyone who had marched past one of the many radioactive ruins realized. Panem still had nuclear weapons. Due to widespread disgust with it after the War of Global Devastation, however, they had concentrated all the nuclear weapons at two points - one at Lake Pleasant, New York; the other at Mount Shasta, California - both fenced around with so many fail-safe measures that Panem loyalists and States loyalists easily wrecked them so completely that neither side in the war could fire them. After the Battle of Laramie, however, Governor Vorhees of Massachusetts seized control of all States forces in the District Thirteen region (that is, roughly New York and New England) and sent them to crack Lake Pleasant. Aided by their own nuclear engineering experience - that having been the primary industry of District Thirteen - they finally succeeded within two days of the Battle of Copper Canyon. Thus, over the still-intact telephone lines, Vorhees sent President Conifar an ultimatum: stop your advance or face nuclear bombs.

"Have you forgotten the War of Global Devastation?" Conifar screamed back. "The ruins of your own Manhattan still glow every night!"

"I should be the one reminding you of that," Vorhees said flatly. "You're in Grand Junction, are you not? Missiles can cross the continent faster than your helicopter can escape. Or have you finally seized Mount Shasta?"

"Maybe we have."

It was a bluff, Vorhees was sure. But, still, he played it out: "Then as a governor of another state in rebellion once said, 'Give me liberty or give me death!'"

Vorhees hung up, knowing Conifar would call back soon, and returned to coordinating the retreat. At least, that was what he called it: few military units remained in formation to retreat, mobs of civilians clogged the road at the mere rumor of Panem's approach; the entire Great Plains and Midwest was almost beyond coordination. All who would listen, Vorhees had sent to dismantle factories. To wreck things before Panem got there, they asked? No, Vorhees had replied, don't destroy. Take them in good order. I have plans for them.

In fact, Conifar did not call back. He did not have time to. He was shot not an hour after hanging up the phone, by Haddad, Secretary of Homeland Security, as soon as Conifar told his Cabinet what had happened. The Cabinet unanimously voted congratulations to Haddad, formally abolished the fifty states, and elected Haddad himself President of Panem. Nonetheless, with Vorhees' very credible threat of nuclear fire hanging over his head, Haddad inquired about conditions on the ultimatum. To his surprise, Vorhees was quite willing to abandon most of his claimed territory. No formal treaty was ever signed, because neither side recognized the other as a legitimate government, but the cease-fire set the de facto border of the United States roughly along the old southern boundary of New York State.

With the war wrapped up, President Haddad set Grand Junction to reestablishing its control over the twelve remaining districts. (The truce was kept secret; it was publicized that the Lake Pleasant nuclear weapons had blown up and destroyed all District Thirteen.) Panem rebuilt the factories, constructed barracks in place of most houses, and forced everyone to work under bare-sustenance conditions. Two-way television sets were to be placed in every structure to pour forth Panem propaganda. No one could object to this, Haddad said. Had they not committed treason against Panem? Did not their own Constitution of the United States allow the enslavement of people convicted of treason or other crimes? Still, he said in private to the Cabinet, this was not enough. It was only an extension of policies in place before the war, and people could get used to it over time. Besides, in another generation or so, who would remember that it was in place because of their treasonous revolt? No, Panem must lay something new on the Districts which would be freshly outrageous every year and eternally remind everyone of their - or their ancestors' - treason.

No one knows who first proposed the Hunger Games. Public announcements merely traced it to "the Government of Panem, under the wise leadership of President Haddad"; all records of President Haddad's term were burnt before Grand Junction fell. Similarly, no one knows whether anyone objected to them. Secretary Raven's recently-published memoirs maintain that she and other unnamed Cabinet members vocally opposed it on moral grounds. Any actual disagreement would probably have remained quiet, as the memoirs suggest, but it is highly improbable that any Cabinet members - who had just sentenced half a continent to eternal slavery - would have such moral qualms. Therefore, the Raven family's impassioned attempts to rehabilitate their ancestor must be rejected. Perhaps some Cabinet members did oppose the Games on practical grounds; if so, though, we will likely never have indisputable evidence.

We can be fairly sure, however, that at least one person opposed them. Vice-Propagandist Olifeld's dissent, as well as being carefully archived, is written across the television broadcasts which would never have been prepared if not for him. "You're going too far!" Olifeld exclaimed. "You don't want to make them hurt just for the sake of hurting them. You want to punish them - and you can do that so much more if they feel that it is, however remotely, justified! So far, you've managed to justify everything under their own Constitution. But, the Constitution of the United States does not provide for the killing of innocent children! Can't you go back to the drawing board on this one piece?"

"Perhaps we can convict the children of treason as well?"

"No. Won't work. Oh, it might in this generation, but we want the Games to be a permanent institution."

"Or amend the Constitution?"

"Great. First, we'd need to convene Congress and get the amendment through it. Then, we'd need to convene legislatures or conventions in three-fourths of the states. Your late predecessor abolished the states, didn't he?"

"Well, he did. Very well; get me a copy of that Constitution."

At long last, a copy was dug up from the National Archives, and President Haddad's finger fell on the "_House Joint Resolution No. 184. Proposed 1926; passed by Congress; approved by 28 states. Unratified._" :

"""_Section. 1. The Congress shall have power to limit, regulate, and prohibit_  
><em>the labor of persons under eighteen years of age.<em>  
><em>Section. 2. The power of the several States is unimpaired by this article<em>  
><em>except that the operation of State laws shall be suspended to the extent<em>  
><em>necessary to give effect to legislation enacted by the Congress.<em>  
><em>"""<em>

"But... Mr. President, we aren't trying to prohibit children from working."

"Ah, Mr. Olifeld, that's the wonder of the word 'regulate.' We're regulating their labor by saying that if chosen, they must labor in the Games, and they must do it in the prescribed manner, et cetera. And it will all be quite legal and Constitutional!" He smiled a great smile. "Thank you for pushing me to find this!"

"If we can say this Amendment was actually ratified. Three-fourths of the states would need to approve it. Back in 1926, there were... 48 states? That means we'd need to find -"

"But now, there are zero states," Haddad interrupted. "Three-fourths of zero is zero. Zero states need to ratify it; it's ratified already!"

"But you could just as well say it's completely unratified!"

"Except twenty-eight states already ratified it. That's far more than three-fourths of zero. And besides, Olifeld, we don't need to actually ratify this amendment or anything; we just need to make it sound plausible!"

The First Hunger Games were announced that same year. Great lamentation and uproar greeted them, but Panem troops were in place to suppress every riot.

_Upcoming: Reelection of Senators; new appointment of electors for President of the United States; Peeta Mellark's next surprise. Update within about a week, I think._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter the Second**

Author hereby stipulates and incorporates by reference all disclaimers and stipulations made above Chapter the First, in particular those related to copyrights.

Certain quotes at bottom come from the Constitution of the United States, ratified 1789.

* * *

><p>The phone - the phone which had been dead silent for days after there had been appointed Electors for President and Vice-President of the United States, as the states fought with Panem over control of the telephone network into which it was plugged - the phone which had been ringing nonstop for the next days as the states were hastily marshalling the eager but naive volunteers into an army - that phone rang once more. Governor Vorhees grumbled as he looked up from his stack of papers. The states' army had just been defeated at Laramie and their last chance smashed at Copper Canyon. Surviving officers would doubtlessly be collecting the remnants without any need to consult him, all the way back in Massachusetts. He was sure that some official's fear wouldn't disturb the states in the least. After weighing the odds for a moment, he looked back down at his papers.<p>

The phone kept ringing. Sighing, he jerked up the receiver. "Vorhees of Massachusetts," he snapped.

"H-hello," the voice stammered. "I'm Captain Manning, and I'm here at Council Bluffs -"

"Soldier, on my desk are the plans to Lake Pleasant. Unless what you have to say is more important than getting nuclear bombs, I suggest you hang up."

"Um... do you know how I can get in touch with General Kesselton?"

"Dead at Laramie."

"General Rossini?"

"Missing for two days; presumed captured."

"The advance base at Oberlin?"

"Phone lines cut yesterday. Soldier, I've better things to do than be a directory."

"But... I don't know who to talk to -"

"The word's 'whom', soldier."

"Oh. I don't know that either."

"Try your commanding officer."

"I am the commanding officer, Governor. I tried everyone; I couldn't find anyone on the phone except you."

Vorhees' eyes went wide. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was frightened. He knew Laramie had been a disaster, but he'd thought the officers could assemble something somewhere on the Great Plains and try again. If Council Bluffs - a vital garrison on the Missouri - couldn't contact anyone, things were much worse than he'd thought. "You're right, Captain," he answered gruffly, "this is important."

"Thank you, Governor." Manning sounded relieved. Vorhees privately thought it was too risky to put someone with so little experience in charge at Council Bluffs... but, then, all the experienced soldiers were fighting for Panem.

"I'll see if I can contact any of the people you should be talking to. If not, I'll call you back. Stay by the line, Captain."

At the end of twenty minutes' unsuccessful calling, Vorhees had completely confirmed Manning's report. After about an hour more, in which he tried - and failed - to raise anyone more informed than Manning anywhere west of the Mississippi, he was utterly terrified. The only bright spot was that Manning had contacted him. Now he knew; he would do what he could. And when it was this desperate, he could do a lot to save the United States of America. With a faint smile, he tapped the plans for Lake Pleasant.

First, though, he called back Manning. "Captain: What is the military situation?"

"Governor - so glad you called! Another party of refugees came through - they say the enemy will be here tomorrow, and we should blow the bridge and run!"

"What!" Vorhees snapped. "Council Bluffs is the biggest industrial place in District -"

"I know, Sir Governor, but I don't see what we can do -"

"You can hold! Captain, here're your orders: Hold! As long as you can! Mine the bridge; don't blow it until you need to; otherwise, we can't get back across to attack!"

"But how -"

"I'll think of something, if it's possible. In the meantime, hold!" He thought for a moment more. "And if you can, tear down the factories and ship them -"

"Governor? Why?"

"No point leaving them for the enemy."

"But the people -"

Yes, Manning did have a point. It would hurt the innocent people left behind. Still... "This's war, Captain. If we can hold east of the Mississippi, or wherever, we'll be thankful for them. Those're your orders. Gather everyone you can; carry them out, Captain - no, Colonel - Manning!"

* * *

><p>Manning lost. Vorhees wasn't too surprised, given the chaos all around Council Bluffs. Still, he shipped one and a half factories back east, blew the bridge, and then retreated in good order. Unfortunately, that was the brightest spot anywhere west of Michigan. He spent hours on the phone now, finding every military unit he could and exhorting them. At first, he simply encouraged them to hold in good order and marked their locations on a map found for him by Ms. Sidney Findel (a very competent lady from New Hampshire, who had somehow managed to create out of nothing all the logistics and transport needed to supply the eager volunteers in the states' army). Then, after shoving away the phone and the Lake Pleasant dossier for a moment and taking a hard look at it, he picked the phone back up and started ordering the units to follow the same orders he'd given to Manning.<p>

"But, Governor!" one lieutenant near Covington, Indiana exclaimed. "Are you really thinking of abandoning -"

"Lieutenant, can you defeat the army of Panem?"

"Well, Governor, I suppose I can't -"

"Then follow your orders."

"Excuse me, Governor..."

There was a brief pause. Vorhees was about to hang up the phone in exasperation when a new voice came on. "This is Assemblyman Arthur Pitt. Is this the Governor of Massachusetts?"

"Yes; Vorhees."

"And why did you order -"

"Ask the Lieutenant. I'm busy."

"Why're you shipping factories? You're tying up needed rail lines. They can't produce that much for Panem even in a half-year. If we don't counterattack by then, Panem will have built up enough that we can't counterattack. Agreed?"

"Look, Pitt, I'm busy."

"You seem to agree with me."

Yes, Pitt was right. Unfortunately, Vorhees thought, he was also myopic. "Tell the Lieutenant to follow orders," he barked. "Good-bye!" He hung up the phone and shouted, "Secretary, mark one delinquent unit at Covington!"

* * *

><p>A very short time later - though it seemed far too long - Governor Vorhees frowned as he inspected another night's worth of reports. The wonderfully competent Ms. Findel had found him one of the few rooms in the Lake Pleasant missile complex actually overlooking the lake; he hadn't the heart to tell her that he kept the drapes closed most of the time. The view brought forward too many doubts. How many lakes just like this - how many people - how many Americans had he abandoned on the other side of the cease-fire line? The moment it was publicized, everyone on the south would flee as far north as they could run, and he would not blame them one bit. Even as they would pack every road and paralize all transport, he would not blame them one bit.<p>

Therefore, he kept it secret. Nothing else could be done. No other Governor or general had spoken; therefore, he had done what he could for Massachusetts.

But still, he wished there was some other way. He looked down - and he found his hand picking up the phone. He almost hung it up again; he didn't want to get a reputation as doubting. Still, there was a way...

"Engineer of the Watch?"

"Yes, Sir Governor?" replied the technician on watch at the silo.

"How many missiles are primed and ready?"

"The same forty, sir."

"And the yield rates?"

"I've rerun the calculations, sir, and they give the same result."

"Not enough." Vorhees did not let himself sigh.

Still, the technician gathered something. "I mean, sir, we can't destroy Panem's armies without leaving ourselves vulnerable. But as long as we don't fire them, it'll all..." Emotion suddenly bled into his voice. "Unless, sir, have they demanded we leave them the other Districts? Sir, we can't -"

"That's all, Engineer of the Watch!" Vorhees barked.

"Yessir," he replied, deadpan.

Vorhees hung up, stared at the papers showing that just barely enough factories had arrived north of the cease-fire line to let this pitiful rump United States survive, and flung the door open. A remnant had survived, thanks to him. He would remind himself of that.

* * *

><p>Vorhees nodded in abrupt greeting to the four people who had so rudely approached him in the middle of his walk.<p>

"Excuse me," said one of the men, "but are you the Governor of Massachusetts?"

He nodded again.

"I may ask what you are doing here in the State of New York?"

Vorhees frowned. This man had to be acting purposefully obtuse. He glared at him. "Saving the United States."

"And Alabama? Arizona? Arkansas? California? Colorado? Delaware? Florida -"

"And what are you doing here?" Vorhees interrupted. "For that matter, who in the world are you?"

"Mr. Arthur Pitt, Member of the General Assembly of the State of Illinois, and United States Senator from the same."

The other three men also introduced themselves, one by one, as Senators from states beyond the cease-fire line.

Vorhees pressed his hands together to keep from clenching his fists. What were these people thinking? "Messrs. Pitt, Davis; Ms. Crayben, Carlisle - why are you here? I understand what you're thinking. I quoted Patrick Henry myself; I know that slavery is worse than death -"

"Then what do you think you are doing?" Pitt interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

"You know what the army you've taken is doing. You're retreating. Evacuating. Abandoning the vast majority of the United States. That is contrary to your duty -"

"Shall all the government's duties go undone everywhere so that we can do them everywhere equally? What must be done can be done, Pitt! I am Governor of Massachusetts, and -"

"That's just it," Crayben of Iowa interrupted. "You're Governor of Massachusetts. You have no authority over Iowa, or Illinois, or anywhere else."

"Or even here in Lake Pleasant," Pitt pressed.

Vorhees stepped back. "Are you threatening me?"

Pitt stepped back as well and spread his empty hands. "I stand for the United States. I find it most clearly written that the President, not the Governor of Massachusetts, is Commander-in-Chief of the army."

"Fine. Who's your President? Not Haddad, I hope."

"If he's elected..." Pitt burst out laughing.

"Isn't that what those Electors way back at the beginning were supposed to do?" Crayben interjected. "Why don't we see who they elected?"

"'Whom they elected.' I know everyone from Massachusetts voted for me."

"I know everyone from Illinois didn't. Fine. I find it most clearly written that their votes shall be counted in the presence of the Senate and the House of Representatives. And then the President shall take the oath of office, and then he may command the army."

"And until then?"

"For that matter, it is also written that the Congress shall meet at least once every year. It has not met since the War of Global Devastation. I demand that it meet at once!"

* * *

><p><em>"""Each State shall appoint, in such Manner as the Legislature thereof may direct,<br>a Number of Electors, equal to the whole Number of Senators and Representatives  
>to which the State may be entitled in the Congress..."""<em>  
>The Number of Senators and Representatives, at the Time of the War of Global Devastation: 535.<br>Thus, the number of Electors appointed by the several States: 535,  
>less 19 electors for Utah, Wyoming, Alaska, and Hawaii not voting,<br>plus 6 disputed electors for Saskatchewan and Alberta asserted by Panem to be states.

_"""The person having the greatest number of votes for President, shall be the President,  
>if such number be a majority of the whole number of Electors appointed; and if no person<br>have such majority, then from the persons having the highest numbers not exceeding  
>three on the list of those voted for as President, the House of Representatives shall<br>choose immediately, by ballot, the President...  
>The person having the greatest number of votes as Vice-President, shall be the Vice-<br>President, if such number be a majority of the whole number of Electors appointed, and  
>if no person have a majority, then from the two highest numbers on the list, the<br>Senate shall choose the Vice-President..."""_

Governor Vorhees welcomed to Lake Pleasant the Senate of the United States. There were present Senator or Senators from nineteen states, including two from each of the seven states of New England. There being no House of Representatives (there having been no time amid the war to elect them), the Senate, by itself, counted the electors' ballots. No person had a majority, and the two highest candidates had both died in the war. Therefore, the Senate proceeded without delay to elect Vorhees (the second-highest-placed surviving candidate) as Vice-President. There being no President, Vorhees immediately succeeded to the office of President of the United States of America. On the insistence of Sen. Pitt, elections for the House of Representatives were set for four months afterwards.

_Speech by Sen. Arthur A. Pitt, on the inauguration of President Epman M. Vorhees  
><em>"We have had Presidents of Panem; we now have a President of the United States. What is the difference? We have elected this President ourselves, but that would be little consolation should we disagree with his decisions tomorrow. No, the chief distinction is that a President of the United States has a Senate, a House of Representatives, fifty state governments, and a Bill of Rights to chain him down. He wants one type of law? Then the Senate and House must agree. He wants another type of law? Then the fifty states must agree. He wants to drive the people into near-servitude, as Panem has done? Even if he can somehow do it, it will all be undone within two or four years, once the people elect his successor. He doesn't like this? He cannot do a thing about it. I say nothing about a President of Panem, but opposing a President of the United States is a high right. And should I catch him in any faults, thus I shall do!"

* * *

><p><em>Thanks, all of you, for your comments, and especially <strong>mintjellyfish<strong>, for urging me to go into more detail! Please keep commenting; I do listen.  
>Next up: What will Vorhees end up wanting to do? Will Pitt be able to restrain him? And just what will everyone do when they hear just what horrors Panem is planning?<br>_


	3. Chapter 3

_An Act to assure the Representation of the People by regulating the Time and Manner of Elections._

_The Senate of the United States,_  
><em>Knowing that all legislative power is inherent in and derived from the people,<em>  
><em>And aware that all officers of government are therefore their servants,<em>  
><em>And that therefore government is, or ought to be, instituted for the common benefit of the community and not for the particular advantage of any smaller body of people,<em>  
><em>Certain that the most effective means of bringing to fruition the above principles is to give the people their undoubted and ancient right of reducing their public officers to a private station, and supplying the vacancies, by regular free elections,<em>  
><em>As is provided by the written Constitution of these United States,<em>  
><em>NOW THEREFORE be it enacted by the Senate of the United States, acting in the absence of a House of Representatives, insofar as may be in its power:<em>

_That the People of the United States shall on the second of August next elect Representatives to the House of Representatives, and that the Representatives so elected assemble with this Senate no later than the thirtieth of August next to form a full Congress of the United States, and that the said Senate and House, with the President previously elected, shall proceed without delay to execute the Constitution..._

The Senate of the United States had itself been appointed by the state legislatures, as the Constitution allowed when seats were vacant, but there was no such allowance for Representatives. Therefore, by this act, the Senate of the United States called for the first Congressional elections since the War of Global Devastation. Four weeks after the President's inauguration, polls would be opened throughout the United States. Of course, everyone understood that it would in practice be limited to District Thirteen (that is, New England).

"How long shall we keep this vain hope open?" challenged Sidney Findel, lately elected Senator from New Hampshire. "It's best to accept reality at once. The other twelve Districts -"

"We know no 'Districts'!" Arthur Pitt shot back. "We shall retain the forty-three states forever; no state may be abolished without its consent!"

"You're only saying this because your seat depends on Illinois being a state -"

"And your seat depends on New Hampshire being a state. Fellow citizens, the only reason any of us are here is the Constitution!"

Ms. Findel shook her head. "The only reason any of us are here is that Panem can tolerate one District in rebellion. But if we keep talking of war -" Her hand crashed down on her desk, sending pens and paper flying.

It is said that before the War of Global Devastation, professional advertisers marketed political candidates carefully in campaigns lasting for entire years. That art was lost long before Fredrick Baxter helped found Panem, and even had it not been, there was little time for campaigning in the rump United States. Still, inasmuch as any issue came to the fore, it was that: Should the government "accept reality" (in Ms. Findel's words) or "remain the United States" (in Mr. Pitt's)? About a quarter of the Senate favored each position; the other half - along with President Vorhees - seemed undecided. As the art of opinion polling was also lost in the War of Global Devastation, no one knew before the election how the people felt.

Nor would they ever know. Even as the people went to the polls, Panem war-planes crossed the border. Hundreds of polling places were burnt from the air; the others closed in fear; no Representatives were elected. Vorhees vowed war with Panem and, over the telephone, threatened nuclear fire; Haddad replied from a bunker in the northern mountains, "Go ahead; we'll just rain Mount Shasta's nukes all over your country. Who's got the bigger territory? Who's more likely to survive?" Vorhees hung up immediately with a frown and ordered elections rescheduled for next week. The Senate immediately and unanimously confirmed his decision.

Yet the strike planes came back the next week, and when elections were again rescheduled, the week after that. Still in Lake Pleasant - the largest town in New England not hit, probably because no one wanted to risk accidentally exploding the first nuclear bomb in anger after the War of Global Devastation - President Vorhees convened again the Senate of the United States. He slowly stepped up to the podium, head bowed, as every Senator waited (in hope or apprehension) for his words.

And then he spoke, in a voice like that of an old man. "A man more resolute than I once said, 'Give me liberty or give me death.' I quoted those words once at Mr. Conifar, and he could not refute them. What did those words bring us?"

He paused.

"Some of you might say they brought us liberty. I tell you, no! Nor did they bring us war, even if you call what we have now war. What they brought us was next to nothing, because those of us here are not all of us. How many seats are in the Senate of the United States? How many states are in the Union? One hundred Senators, two for each of the fifty states! How many do I see today, though every Senator be present? Not even forty. 'Give us liberty, or give us death'? Then we - then I - are abandoning forty-three states to a fate worse than death."

Ms. Findel jumped to her feet and interrupted, "What can we do? Die along with them?"

"We swore oaths to the Constitution when we took office," Pitt shot back. "Do I hear a motion for new elections to the House?"

"You want another air raid?"

"I don't ask that!" Vorhees yelled. "But I do ask for your 'blood, toil, tears, and sweat.' We cannot abandon the other forty-three states. Panem has offered a truce, but it's just demonstrated that it shall only keep it as long as it wants. As one of your predecessors said, 'We must all hang together, or we shall all hang separately!' I move to declare a state of emergency."

Pitt instantly retorted, "That's one of the excuses Panem gave for never holding a single election. Why, I think Milhouse himself used that! The only thing the Constitution says about states of emergency is that the writ of habeas corpus may be suspended. As another learned man said, 'The Constitution of the United States covers with the shield of its protection all classes of men, at all times, and under all circumstances'!"

A bill was at once proposed to suspend the writ of habeas corpus "for the duration of the emergency" (i.e. the war with Panem), and it passed almost unanimously. Thus, the government was allowed to arrest anyone for any reason at all and imprison them indefinitely. This action was perfectly constitutional - though many would say the writ was only suspended where fighting was actually occurring. Yet, said Vorhees, this would not be enough. He then offered a bill - which passed overwhelmingly - to suspend the Constitution "for the duration of the emergency." Henceforth, the Senate and President would pass all legislation necessary and proper "in all cases whatsoever" without a House, without the several states, and without a Bill of Rights.

Immediately putting their new powers into practice, they drafted every able-bodied citizen to expand the old bomb shelters from the War of Global Devastation into vast caverns able to shelter the entire population - including refugees from the other Districts - for the duration of the emergency. Of course, virtually everything would be in short supply in these caverns; therefore, the President and Senate would supervise the distribution of all necessary resources and punish any who violated their plans or exposed the shelters' location by leaving without permission.

* * *

><p><em>The Treaty of Treason<em>

_The people throughout the thirteen Districts have treacherously rebelled against their rightful rulers and masters, the Government of Panem. They have now been crushed and completely defeated. The rebels, who bear the sole responsibility for the Dark Days, are no longer capable of resisting the will of Panem. Their unconditional submission has thereby been effected, and they have become subject to such requirements as may now or hereafter be imposed upon them...  
>...As you rebels purported to set up a Constitution of your own will for yourselves, which contained pains and punishments for treason, Panem is pleased to now make that same Constitution the instrument of your punishment. By your own words shall you be deprived of liberty and property and subjected to forfeiture and servitude...<br>... And as Panem is your rightful master, you shall rejoice at its will. You and your townsfolk and your children shall make merry and be festive as these provisions are carried out. So it is written; so shall it be._

Scholars have long debated why Panem named this Act the "Treaty of Treason." A treaty is, fundamentally, an agreement between independent governments, and Panem had never officially acknowledged the United States. Even the normally vocal Raven family is silent on this subject, saying their ancestor was in District Two at the time. Until and unless the current government releases any surviving records, this question must remain unanswered. (Since the records of the preceding President Conifar and the succeeding President Hinchley have survived unabridged, it is exceedingly improbable that the fire destroyed all records from Haddad's term, as the government claims.) The best speculations, however, point to how the newly-promoted Assistant Chief Propagandist Olifeld claimed every provision to be legal under the United States Constitution. Perhaps Panem was pretending this was a treaty between it and the United States in an effort to shame the Districts even more.

If so, however, it was probably unnecessary. Panem's voluminous secret police dossiers – released in slightly redacted form under President Paylor – report very few remarks about the Treaty's wording. Everyone was far too terrified by its substance. Hundreds of parents crowded around the Justice Buildings in desperate plea; military trucks crushed them mercilessly; the next day, hundreds more came. Yet nonetheless, the numbers were duly drawn (under heavy military guard), armed men grabbed the weeping children from their frantic parents, and the Games appeared on every television in Panem.

Twenty-six tributes participated in the First Hunger Games. Or, more aptly, twenty-six tributes appeared in the arena. Only twenty-two could properly be said to have participated. As soon as the announcer's voice finished giving the rules, two tributes – the girl and boy from District 4 – broke down in tears. The other twenty-four stared at each other.

"So we're supposed to kill one another," one said.

"Who starts?" another asked.

"Not me," replied the boy from District 13, a prisoner of war who had been forced into the Games. He continued speaking for a moment, but the television's sound cut off.

"I suppose I'll probably get killed first," a young girl said quaveringly.

"No, you will not," replied the boy from District 3. "I'll protect you."

"As long as you can," the boy from District 10 shot back. "Remember, only one of us will survive this!"

"Then it won't be me," the District 3 boy declared.

It was several minutes before someone made a move: the District 10 boy grabbed a sword from the Cornucopia and stabbed the District 4 girl as she still crouched sobbing. The District 3 boy instantly jumped on him and tried to wrestle the sword away, but he slipped out and ran.

Thus died the first victim of the Hunger Games. Twenty-four more would follow within a week. Another would die before moving from the starting plates; two others (including the District 3 boy) died without striking a blow while trying to speak to the other tributes. (Their words were muted on the television and their lips blurred so none could tell what they were saying.) Of the other twenty-two, twelve immediately hid or ran; six managed to survive until the Gamesmasters killed them. The numbers swiftly dwindled until by the end of the sixth day, three remained: two who were just as vicious as Panem (apparently) hoped for, and one – Palney Kirk, the boy from District 13 – who had been careful to kill only those who had slain innocent people.

Cameras carefully recorded Palney's moment of decision as he crouched in front of his secret cave. "I suppose I could survive this," he finally said aloud. "I wouldn't feel too bad about killing both of them... no, you cameras, I'd be executing them, for their crimes. But -" _[here the sound cut off]_ "- is ruined, they say. Still, I might as well -" _[sound cut off again]_ "- and have a last bit of fun while I'm at it."

So Palney descended, knife and bow at his side. As he was killing one of his foes, he was ambushed from behind by the other. He died smiling; his last words were not broadcast.

* * *

><p>NOTE: Some of the wording of the Representation of the People Act is taken from the 1777 Constitution of Vermont. Some of the wording of the Treaty of Treason is taken from the 1945 Declaration of the Defeat of Germany. Vorhees quotes Patrick Henry, Winston Churchill, and Benjamin Franklin; Pitt quotes Justice Samuel Field (Ex Parte Milligan).<p>

_Hello out there, all you people I see on the stats page but not the review page! Please tell me what you think of this story; I want to know! One reason I'm going more slowly at this than I planned is because one of my few reviewers asked for more detail. The other reason is... well, it's fun!  
>Next episode will be posted in about a week, or less. Check back to see Pitt impeached, and Vorhees' term of office finally expire!<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_"You see, we are the true inheritors of the United States. The War of Global Devastation tore apart the old government; we have survived the Dark Days and have bound the Districts closer to us than ever before. And the rabble of District 13 who call themselves the United States? Leave them to themselves; they won't do a thing. Why, they're cowering underground without our striking a single blow!"_  
>- President Haddad, secret speech to the Cabinet of Panem at the official renaming of Grand Junction to "The Capital," Second Year of the Games.<p>

The resolution having passed, work on the cavern shelters continued steadily. Vorhees himself led, his face resolute. Many Senators worked by his side, though some scattered through New England to help ready everyone for the move. Panem did not interfere beyond sending periodic bombing flights, its army being occupied suppressing the Districts and enforcing the First Hunger Games. People plunged into despair from the war, the chaotic retreat, and the bombing - not to mention the Hunger Games, broadcast across the cease-fire line as well - gradually gathered themselves together with this new, useful, universal task.

Four months after the Constitution was suspended, there came the time appointed by Act of the Senate for all to move to the underground shelters. President Vorhees presided over a solemn state opening at the main entrance in Lake Pleasant, with half the townsfolk looking on and all the United States (that is, New England) watching over television. (As Sidney Findel was setting everything up, Colonel Manning suggested she broadcast over the official Panem Capitol frequency and try to drown out the First Hunger Games. Findel, seeing his fervor, accepted his suggestion graciously without telling him it was government policy not to provoke Panem unnecessarily.)

Over the night, under cover of both squadrons of the United States Air Force, everyone moved to the shelter: all the registered residents of Lake Pleasant, followed by tens, hundreds, and thousands of refugees. They filled every barricks set aside for them; they overflowed into the public halls; they massed into not-yet-finished caverns.

"Too many," Findel murmured to Vorhees.

"Ellis Island," Vorhees whispered. "Have you ever heard of Ellis Island, Miss Findel?" (She shook her head.) "'Twas the one gateway to the United States... and it was filled to overflowing. Tell me, if everyone from all fifty states had known and been able to choose, who would have stayed in Panem?"

Findel bowed her head. "We... we couldn't take them."

"But I'm their President as well. I've abandoned them."

"They're overflowing our shelter as it is! What more can we do?"

"Do something. Do something about those who have escaped to us already. And... snatch as many as we can from the jaws of the Games."

Vorhees turned back to his desk and started slowly fingering a pistol in his pocket.

* * *

><p>"Knock! Knock!"<p>

Gerdon Rensome slowly stretched out his legs in front of the creaking rocking chair. "Well, this's been a nice cottage, hasn't it, Viola?"

"Aye," his wife Viola answered without looking up from her knitting.

"Knock! Knock!" again sounded from the door.

"I wonder however they did find out we're still here..."

"They've got a list, of course, Gerdon," Viola replied. Her knitting needles were clicking furiously. "Don't you remember? That nice Mr. Pitt showed us how to register and get this house and everything. So they read down that list -"

"- and figured out this house would be the best place to look." Gerdon frowned. "Arthur!" he yelled.

"Knock! Knock!" resounded again from the door.

Senator Arthur Pitt tiptoed in from the other room of the cottage. "I thought I'd told you it'd be best to remain quiet!" he whispered with mock severity.

"Arthur," Gerdon boomed, "I was up and about before you were a twinkle in your father's eye. And now you tell me -"

"Gerdon!" Viola exclaimed.

"- Anyhow," Gerdon finished, "if you're going and telling me to keep my own voice down in my own house, I might however well be back in Panem!"

"Knock! Knock!" the door again boomed.

Viola paused her knitting. "One of us might want to get the door?"

"I'll do it," Pitt offered. "I'm a Senator; they might let me stay -"

"Never!" Gerdon interrupted. "When the day comes I can't keep my own house -" He started pulling himself up.

Pitt was instantly at his side. "Here; let me help you -"

Gerdon grabbed his hand tightly. "If I can't move my own self around freely -" he pulled himself up using Pitt's arm -"what's freedom worth?" He dropped Pitt's hand and headed for the door. With an elaborate sigh (and chuckle), Viola picked up her knitting and followed. Pitt hung back, hidden by a cupboard.

"Knock! Knock -"

Gerdon pulled the door open just as one of the three soldiers was knocking, almost causing him to fall down. "Well, well," he announced. "Three soldiers come to pay call on an old man! To ask me how I'm getting on in the free United States?"

"Mr. Rensome; Mrs. Rensome," interrupted the soldier. "I have come persuant to Public Law #101-79 -"

"- And I welcome you persuing to the United States!"

"'Persuant,' dear," Viola filled in. "It means, 'concerning.'"

"'Concerning'? I hope I'm not concerning anyone, except in a most friendly manner -"

"Mr. Rensome," the soldier interrupted again. "We are here to take you to the public shelters."

"Well, thank you for the invitation, but I -"

"You've ignored three invitations." The soldier sounded exasperated by now. "You should have come last night. So, come with us now -"

"Thank you, but as I was saying -"

"You have five minutes to pack -"

"Pack? No. We're staying here."

No one spoke for a moment. Even Viola's knitting needles fell silent.

"I do hope there's some way?" Viola filled in. "We'll be very quiet; we won't bother a fly -"

"The Law is the Law."

"My home is my castle," Gerdon protested.

The soldier cocked his gun. The cartridge chambers slid into place with a very distinctive "click" which no one could mistake in this almost-empty village.

Senator Arthur Pitt heard it and recognized it. He slid into sight. "The law is the law, you say? Then I'm sure we're all in agreement here."

"Senator!" the soldier exclaimed in shock. "What - why are you here?"

"Visiting these two good citizens."

"But -"

"We're from Illinois originally," Viola explained, starting her knitting again. "It was Pitt who urged us to come here and found us seats on the train... the last train, almost..."

"And this house has been sold, yes, sold to them by proper authority," Pitt finished. "I'm sure either Mr. or Mrs. Rensome can show you the deed. Therefore, it cannot be taken from them without their consent."

"Mr. Pitt," the soldier said with a sigh, "I'm sure you know Public Law #101-79 about moving to the shelters..."

"And I'm sure you know Article of Amendment #5, about protection of property rights."

"Mr. Pitt, you were there when the Senate suspended the Bill of Rights -"

"It can never be suspended. It lasts as long as the United States stand; every Senator is bound by its chains to keep the people free!"

"I'm not going to debate politics now. You come with me, too."

"Never, as long as -"

"Arthur," Viola interrupted. "They've got guns!"

Pitt looked. All three soldiers' guns were cocked and pointed at him. "I do not consent to any searches or seizures," he stated.

"Five minutes," the soldier repeated. "Then come with us."

"There's really no other way?" Viola pleaded.

The soldier shook his head. "I just enforce the laws."

"Then... if we must."

* * *

><p>"Look!" Viola pointed. "The morning star's rising."<p>

"The evening star," Gerdon grumbled. "Even I can tell it's evening."

"It's the morning star as well," Pitt said. "As Franklin said, let's keep trying to make it morning."

* * *

><p><em>"But why should we enumerate our injuries in detail? By one statute it is declared, that parliament can 'of right make laws to bind us in all cases whatsoever.' What is to defend us against so enormous, so unlimited a power?"<em>  
>-Continental Congress, by the pen of John Dickinson, 1775.<p>

Colonel Manning was standing, frowning, by the cavern gates when Pitt was escorted in. "Senator!" he exclaimed elatedly. "I'm glad you're here!"

"Glad?" Pitt stopped. The three soldiers and the Rensomes also paused, but Manning waved them on. Pitt nodded. "I'll see you soon, Viola, Gerdon. As soon as possible."

After brief farewells, Manning pulled Pitt down another passage. "Let's not take too long. The Senate hasn't been waiting for you."

"It's been passing more purported laws?" Pitt asked resignedly.

"I don't know. But I'm afraid with you gone, no one talks about anything except fortifying ourselves more. It's almost as if they've forgotten what's going on outside! Is that why you opposed building this shelter, Senator?"

"One reason... What do you think of forcing people into here, if they don't want to go?"

Manning frowned. "I'd rather not... but if that's the only way, we need to do it."

Pitt frowned as well. Manning's response was understandable; he had - everyone had - grown up under a government that laughed at Constitutions. Still, if many other people agreed with Manning, much work remained to do. "I disagree. But, I suppose, we don't have much time. Where's the Senate meeting?"

* * *

><p>The Senate met surrounded by rock polished as smooth as glass, in a room dug before even the War of Global Devastation by machines beyond the experience of most everyone now present. Neither water nor erosion had sullied this chamber. Only four nails - driven into ancient holes which had once held long-since-rotted brackets - broke the smoothness. From them hung the tattered remnants of what had once been an American flag. Though barely identifiable in and of themselves, the identity of this red, white, and blue had been handed down throughout all the years of Panem.<p>

Now, under this ancient flag, met the reconvened Senate of the United States. Having duly elected Jareth Camlan of Maine as President Pro Tem to preside, they were debating over supplies when into the chamber stepped Arthur Pitt.

Quickly nodding his head, he tried to slip into a chair, but Mr. Camlan announced from the chair, "Ah, Mr. Pitt of Illinois has finally arrived."

Sidney Findel instantly stopped her speech. "I move to postpone the current motion."

As Pitt looked around in confusion, the vote was instantly taken as if prearranged, and the proposal under discussion was nearly-unanimously postponed. Then, Findel continued, "I move articles of impeachment against Senator Pitt - "

"What have I done!" Pitt cried.

"- on the grounds that he has seditiously disrespected and slandered the Senate and President."

Three other Senators - all from New England - instantly jumped up to second the proposal.

"The reason is obvious," Findel continued. "In this grave emergency, while Panem is attacking us every month, eager to murder our children and tear our hearts apart as they are even now doing elsewhere - what's he doing? He's stymying our every move! He objects to our every act, saying not that it won't help but that it's contrary to a scrap of centuries-old paper! Now you might ask why I didn't call him a traitor. Well, I read that scrap of paper, and it unfortunately says this isn't treason. So, just so Mr. Pitt won't protest, I'll call it something else. Whatever it's called, it's a bad thing."

Pitt was instantly on his feet in protest. To his surprise, Camlan nodded at him. That defeated at a stroke what'd been on the tip of his tongue - they were letting him speak. Did they think he'd pull the noose around his own neck? Well, he'd reply with something substantive, too. "Fellow Senators," (he strode to the front, so he could see them better), "I would be glad to answer any charges brought by a House of Representatives. That is the Constitutional way to impeach someone." He looked around. Findel was smiling broadly, as if he was running right into her trap. "Still," he continued, "the Senate may indeed expel a member. So I will defend myself.

"I'm not the first one to be accused of this," he continued. "There was once an Act of Congress which said that if anyone said bad things about the President or Congress, and he couldn't prove them true, he could be arrested. And who was arrested? Representative Matthew Lyon, for criticizing what the President had done. You see, once you start saying it's a crime to criticize you, where will you stop?"

Pitt scanned the Senate. No one seemed to be understanding. "If you don't understand this, I'm afraid there isn't anything else I can say to you."

"Horray!" someone cried.

"I've pleaded with you for months to follow the Constitution, to keep people free now so they'll stay free later. And now you're expelling me for holding to the First Amendment, which says anyone can insult anyone! I adjure you by the oath each one of us took to support the Constitution, listen to me!"

Pitt looked, but no one replied. Slowly, resignedly, he returned to his seat.

"Does anyone have anything more to say before we vote?" Camlan asked.

President Vorhees rose. "May I speak to Senator Pitt in private?"

"Indeed. Senate recessed."


	5. Chapter 5

"I know that oath as well as you do," Vorhees said, ushering Pitt into his office. "When I quoted Patrick Henry at Conifar - 'give me liberty or give me death' - I meant every word of it! I can echo Churchill and Washington and Adams with the best of anyone. But these are not normal times, Pitt."

"I don't care worth a hollow word. To quote Justice Davis, 'the government, within the Constitution, has all the powers granted to it which are necessary to preserve its existence'."

"In the words of someone I'm sure you'll recognize, 'are all the laws but one to go unexecuted and the Government itself go to pieces lest that one be violated'?"

"Abraham Lincoln was referring to the Civil War war effort - and that's exactly what I'm demanding."

Vorhees slowly shook his head. "We've tried it, Pitt," he flatly declared. "Our war effort went up in flames at Laramie and Copper Canyon."

"So our oaths constrain us to try again!" Pitt stared into Vorhees' face.

Vorhees sank down into his chair and let his eyes fall to his desk. "I know my oath, Mr. Senator. I hear the screams of the other forty-three states in my head every night. I have consented to the tyrants at Grand Junction starving them, enslaving them, and murdering them. I have allowed the Constitution to become worse than a null letter everywhere south or west of New York: it has been rewritten and twisted to justify the tyrants' every pleasure. I have allowed all this, and worse, in gross and overwhelming violation of my oath, because it was the only way I could think of to preserve liberty here in New England."

"Do you realize that is perjury? Do you realize perjury is a high crime?"

Vorhees shrugged. "'Would not the official oath be broken if the Government should be overthrown?'"

"But right after he said that, Lincoln set forth legal justification for what he did."

Vorhees grinned a shallow grin. "Then if you want to impeach me - what was that you said? You'll be glad to answer any charges brought by a House of Representatives?"

Pitt shook his head. "Then we'll bring you before a civil court. 'With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.' Do you realize what we're talking about, Mr. President?"

"I realize I have condemned the vast majority of my constituants to a fate which Patrick Henry said was worse than death. And I realize I am firing artillary barrages through the Constitution, and my oath, and Justice itself, every day as I seek to preserve a remnant here in New England." Vorhees fell silent for a moment before breathing, "There, Mr. Pitt. I've admitted every point you came to make, haven't I? Go back to your impeachment. I'd pardon you if I could, but that's one part of the Constitution I have no need to violate."

Pitt sank into his chair, head bowed.

Vorhees looked down at him with an expression that seemed to betray intense longing. "Or do you have something else to say?"

Pitt murmured, "You... aren't... the kind of man I expected you to be, Mr. Duly-Elected President."

"I suppose I should be glad. But I almost wish I were as cold as you must have thought I was... It would help sometimes, when I let my mind wander."

"As a general once said, 'It is well that war is so terrible - lest we should grow too fond of it.'"

"But he remained a general," Vorhees whispered, his face in his hands.

"And you are, still, a tyrant. I'm almost sorry to say this, but..." Pitt stood. "If you know Patrick Henry and Thomas Paine as well as you say, you should know what I'm going to tell you next."

Vorhees folded his hands and sat up straight. "You're going to quote Virginia's state motto at me and say that I should be killed as a tyrant," he answered matter-of-factly.

"You grasp my point exactly." Pitt stepped back and dropped his hands to his belt.

Vorhees reached down into a drawer and brought out a pistol, which he slid muzzle-first across the desk to Pitt. "Go ahead. Do it. Do it yourself, now. I'll be glad to be rid of this office."

Pitt stared at the President without moving his hand toward the gun. "You could have resigned," he mumbled. "Or did you decide you had a responsibility to the United States which you couldn't duck out of?"

"Exactly. I could easily imagine myself - I wish I could be - in your place."

"And I could easily imagine myself doing what you did, Mr. President. And I'm terrified that if I were in your place, I would..." He stepped forward to the desk and fingered the gun. "But I wish I'd be strong enough to ask someone to - to kill me, if that were the only way to prevent myself from enslaving the country."

"I continually wish I wish I'd been killed at Laramie before this."

Pitt slid the gun back over the table. "You can still get out. Convene a House of Representatives. They can impeach you."

"You misunderstand me, Pitt. I... stand... by... every... one... of... my... actions!" He hammered the desk to punctuate each word. "And I am willing to pay the penalty. I do it so that the United States may live." He pushed the gun back across the desk and fixed Pitt's eyes with a stare. "Suppose you had been named President in the wake of Laramie and Copper Canyon. What would you have done? How much of the United States would you have preserved against Panem's all-conquering army?

"I would have preserved the United States as itself. What is the United States, Mr. President? Is it the territory or the people? The names of the governing officials? Panem has at least as many of those as we do." Pitt slid aside the gun, grabbed Vorhees' hands, and shouted in his face, "Mr. President, what is the United States? I'm sure you know."

Vorhees did not try to resist. He answered impassively, "Our Constitution, of course, Mr. Senior Senator from Illinois. That is what makes us better than Panem."

Pitt dropped Vorhees' hands in pleasure. "'Absolutely, Mr. President. Then why have you destroyed it?"

"I haven't destroyed anything more than necessary; it shall be restored the moment it can be. What else would you have done?"

"At the least, I would have kept the Constitution pure and unsullied. Far better it be destroyed than rubbed out to worthless words. What are the children growing up under Panem hearing of the Constitution?"

"I'm sure their parents will tell them -"

"Maybe. But they're also hearing that it allows the 'Hunger Games' and all sorts of other tyrannies! And with your truce, you are doing nothing about it. Mr. President, you have let Haddad wrap the 'Hunger Games' in the Constitution!" Pitt slid the gun back over to Vorhees.

Vorhees did not pick it up. "Then bring that President Haddad in here, because without the truce, he's what you're going to get. Let's turn on the TV and see how many children he's killed today."

"Unfortunately, your successor does not yet show her murders on TV."

"My successor." Vorhees stared over Pitt's head, as if hoping to see this murderous person. "Whom do you have in mind?"

"Someone who actually believes what you've said. Someone who realizes that without any Constitution, you can do -"

"Knock, knock!" The door interrupted Pitt.

Vorhees slowly shook his head. "If I can do whatever I want... then can I ask you to get the door, Pitt?"

"And what if I refuse?" Pitt smiled. "Will you punish me cruelly and unusually?" But without waiting for the answer, he opened the door.

It was Senator Crayben of Iowa.

"You're here?" Pitt asked. "They sent you?"

"Why are you doing this, Pitt?"

"Doing what? Trying to keep the people free?"

"But you're trying to stop our only way to free the rest of the country!"

Pitt stared at Crayben. "You've fallen as well? Remember when we both came here to rebuke Vorhees for the truce and restore liberty? What's happened?"

"Iowa has fallen. Illinois has, too. How can we restore it again?"

"The Constitution -"

"Tell it to the Senate, Pitt. They're ready to hear you one more time."

He squared up his shoulders. "Then I'll give them one more speech."

* * *

><p>"...What do you think the children growing up in your caverns will learn about the Constitution? That it can be suspended whenever the government pleases."<p>

"Mr. Pitt, in time of war, greater restrictions may be necessary -"

"Of the Army, certainly."

"Draft everyone into the army?" another Senator, Flodden from Maine, spoke up. "What an excellent -"

"No, that's not the horror I was talking about! Think of the children who will grow up to be your successors. Growing up in the Army itself, if that atrocity comes to pass. They will follow your restrictions, make no doubt of that. But when they come to be Senators and Presidents, they will continue to feel comfortable with imposing these things. Their lives will have been regimented; they will think it only natural to regiment others' lives."

"But we've agreed that is necessary -"

"In time of peace? After growing up subject to wartime restrictions, Miss Findel, they will find peace. So we cannot regiment everyone, even in wartime!"

Camlan hammered his gavel. "Mr. Pitt, you are repeating yourself. Do I hear a motion to vote?"

"I so move." It was Miss Findel.

"All in favor... Opposed... The motion passes. We now vote on the Article of Impeachment against Senator Pitt of Illinois. All in favor?"

Almost all New England, as well as half the other states, voted in favor.

"Opposed?"

Pitt looked around like a trapped animal - or contestant in Haddad's Hunger Games - searching for a way out.

"Mr. Pitt, you are hereby convicted of the charges against you."

His eyes skimmed around the dimly-lit cavern. Two people were absent. "I move that Mr. and Mrs. Rensome be notified of this."

"Mr. Pitt, you are no longer a Senator and as such -"

President Vorhees interrupted. "I shall notify them."

"As Mr. Pitt is hereby convicted and no longer a Senator, he may no longer be heard. Do I hear another motion?" Mr. Flodden?"

"I move that the President be authorized to draft any and every citizen into the U. S. Army."

"Second the motion," said Miss Findel.

"Debate may -"

President Vorhees stood.

"- Mr. President?" Camlan began to step down from the podium.

Vorhees did not move to take it. "Honorable Senators, I must now submit impeachment charges against myself."

"Mr. President?" gasped Miss Findel.

"You do not need to take it," Vorhees continued. "But Mr. Pitt was right. I have violated the Constitution. I have violated my oath of office. I must give you a chance to vote -"

"Give the Senate a chance?" Pitt exclaimed.

"Mr. Pitt, you may no longer speak -"

"The Senate is the proper body," Findel explained earnestly.

"No," Pitt shot back. "It's the people."

"That's impossible," Findel snapped.

"Then do it next month. Or after that. But consult the people."

"Mr. Pitt, you may not -"'

"You may not ignore the people! I challenge you: Who will elect your replacements?"

"The state legislatures again, I suppose," said Mr. Flodden.

"Listen!" Pitt screamed. "You've ignored the Constitution which protects the people, confident that you'd protect them as much as is necessary. But now, you're ignoring the people as well. If this continues - if this goes on - if you listen to the people like Mr. Flodden - then I shall prophesy!"

"Mr. Pitt -" Camlan interrupted.

Vorhees raised his hand. "Let him speak. He is what I wish I could have been; he should be heard."

Surprised, Camlan stepped back.

"Thank you," Pitt continued. "I know what shall flow from what you have done today: You may merely postpone elections for a House of Representatives, but your sucessors shall ensure no House is ever elected. You may defeat Mr. Flodden's motion, but your successors shall pass it. You may reject the Child Labor Amendment while bombs fall, but your successors shall pass such laws anyway when Panem has not stirred for decades. You may stand aghast at what Haddad has done, but your successors shall do every one of his deeds. Someone claiming the title of President of the United States shall stand in her capitol to conscript children for Hunger Games. And not a word shall be openly breathed of its injustice."

* * *

><p><strong>Quotes include:<strong>

Patrick Henry, "Give me liberty or give me death"  
>Justice Davis, <em>Ex Parte Milligan<em>, speaking against martial law when civil courts can be convened  
>Abraham Lincoln defending his suspension of habeas corpus, in an address to Congress, July 1861<br>Matthew 7:2, KJV  
>Robert E. Lee, December 1862<br>Virginia's state motto, "Sic Semper Tyrannis", or "Thus always to tyrants" (referring to Brutus's supposed words as he assassinated Julius Caesar).

_LONG LIVE THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! Thank you, everyone, for waiting over the Independence Day weekend! Next chapter will be no later than next Wednesday._


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry I broke my word by one day. Can I excuse it on the grounds of research? I was reading an interesting book about the military occupation of Germany after World War II... Okay, no, I'm not planning to write another chapter on military occupation. In fact, I'm planning for the next chapter to probably be the last. Thank you once more, everyone, for reading! The last chapter should be posted next week. But please keep an eye on my profile; I've got many more story ideas in mind!_  
>Again, all aforementioned disclaimers stand.<p>

* * *

><p>...The Senate immediately dismissed the impeachment charges against President Vorhees; he retired to his office, from which Senator Findel roused him the next day with news that Palney Kirk had died in the Hunger Games. Vorhees emerged, with a frown on his face and hollows around his eyes, to order a week of mourning.<p>

Mr. Pitt shook the dust of the Senate cavern off his feet as he left. The next day, he appeared at the shelter gates with the Rensomes, demanding that they all be let outside. It was impossible and illegal, the guard protested. Mr. Pitt repeated his demand in the name of his Senate privileges; the guard responded that he had been expelled. He repeated his demand in the name of the Bill of Rights; the guard responded that it had been suspended. Pitt then pronounced, "If the Constitution is suspended, the government doesn't have any authority. So, you don't have any right to keep us in." The guard did not respond except to say that he would, nonetheless, listen to the government. The Rensomes left in resignation; Pitt followed a minute later. The next month, Pitt volunteered as a primary school teacher.

(Mr. and Mrs. Rensome both died within the year of unrecorded causes. In an appendix to Secretary Raven's memoirs, her family attempts to impugn the Senate; however, due to the Rensome's advanced age, such suspicions – though not absolutely unfounded – should probably be dismissed.)

Little changed over the next two years. The shelters were enlarged to accommodate the rest of New England's people; Panem continued to fly ever-rarer bombing raids across the border (and the United States government continued to improve the shelters in response); Hunger Games continued to be held on an annual basis accompanied by great protests.

The next great change came in November of the second year. As everyone could read in the Constitution, the terms of one-third of the Senators would expire. (While each Senator had a six-year term, their terms overlapped so that one-third would be elected every second year. The overlap continued even after new Senators had been appointed, because they technically filled the remainder of terms left unfilled since the War of Global Devastation.) Before the War, elections would have been held - but this was obviously impossible for (say) Pitt's old seat in Illinois. After short, secret debates, the Senate officially decided that New England was not yet ready for elections, either. Therefore, they directed the state legislatures (which had not met since the War of the Great Disaster) to reconvene and reappoint every incumbent Senator to fill the next term. Senators from outside New England would simply keep their seats in the absence of a State legislature.

That brought Mr. Pitt out of retirement. New England was self-evidently at peace, he protested. There had been no threat of invasion for the last two years. If elections could not be held now, when would they ever be held? And if Senators' terms could be extended now, when would anyone ever face reelection? Pitt was immediately arrested for disturbing the peace; President Vorhees immediately pardoned him.

The Senate summoned the same State legislatures to meet again two years after that, when President Vorhees' term expired. After reappointing Senators, they named Electors for President and Vice-President, who promptly and unanimously elected Vorhees and Findel, respectively. Yet the day after his second inauguration, Vorhees resigned. Two days later, he was found dead in his bed. A note by his side read, "Now, at last, let me rest."

Miss Sidney Findel was now the second elected President of the United States since the War of Global Devastation. Her first act was to drag Pitt out of the classroom and prosecute him for slandering the Congress and President. Secretly-made recordings of his lessons were played in court: he had been teaching the United States Constitution and telling children how the government was violating it.

"Freedom of speech!" Pitt cried.

"I don't care," said President Findel.

"But the Bill of Rights -"

"We suspended that. Don't you remember?"

Pitt was never again released until his death.

* * *

><p><p>

Throughout the seventy-five Years of the Games, government continued in the United States (that is, New England) under a semblance of Constitutional order. Legislatures of the seven states chose electors who elected a President and Vice-President; they also appointed Senators (as the Constitution provided to fill terms vacated by a properly elected Senator). It was only a semblance, though. Not one election was held in these seventy-five years. When a state legislator died, the legislature itself chose his successor. Even this ingrown cyclical system was merely a sham: before every election, the President would "recommend" candidates to the Senate, which – almost always – would stamp its approval. These official Senate-recommended candidates always won election by the state legislatures. Then, the process continued again.

The Senators from states outside New England did not face even this perfunctory process; they held their seats "for the duration of the emergency." Also "for the duration of the emergency," of course, were a host of Acts of Congress regulating every aspect of people's lives down to a minute-by-minute schedule which must be temporarily tattooed on each citizen's wrist each morning. These last aspects were ex post facto justified when Mr. Flodden's Act passed in the fortieth Year of the Games, drafting every citizen into the Army.

The Presidents of the United States, after the reestablishment of the office:  
>* Mr. Epman M. Vorhees of Massachusetts, Years 1-5 of the Games<br>* Ms. Sidney Findel of New Hampshire, 5-21 _(Note that the Twenty-Second Amendment, which limits the President to two terms, was suspended "for the duration of the emergency.")_  
>* Mr. Sarus L. Colfax of Massachusetts, 21-29<br>* Mr. Douglas Manning of Wisconsin, 29-33...

* * *

><p><p>

President Vorhees died in office; President Findel retired shortly before her death; Senator Colfax succeeded. (Findel's Vice-President attempted to succeed, but the Senate recommended Colfax instead in a bid to keep its independence.) However, Colfax lost his bid for a third term due to the Senate's disgust with his restrained response to Panem's military buildup along the border.

Nonetheless, the Senate could not agree on whom to nominate instead. Vorhees and Findel were both dead, as were many of the original Senators. None of the survivors of the original Senate could gain everyone's support, but everyone agreed that the time demanded someone with military experience. In Panem, such deadlock would inevitably end in murder and coup, but the Senate of the United States would not yet resort to that. Finally, they compromised on an outsider: Mr. Douglas Manning, who had commanded a regiment at Council Bluffs during the great retreat after the War of the Great Disaster.

"There's nothing we can do," President Manning reminded the Senate in his first speech. "We lost the War. We can't win another one."

"But the missiles!"

"Do you know what will happen if we fire even one of the dread nukes of Lake Pleasant? Every missile and bomb from the four corners of Panem will descend upon us. No, we need another way..."

The twelve Districts of Panem had long been quiet. Yet the day before the Reaping for the Twenty-Ninth Hunger Games, rebellion rose throughout the eastern districts. Thousands of people - desperate parents, emaciated factory workers, and other oppressed slaves of Panem - cried out for freedom. The "Peacekeepers" of Panem, though surprised, still managed to hold out until the army could fly down from the border. And then the desperate but ill-equipped rebels learned the lesson which the United States had learned full well at the Battle of Laramie: in a stand-up fight, the army that is actually equipped and trained will win. The Twenty-Ninth Reaping was slightly delayed, but every one of the twenty-four children was still stolen.

Thus President Manning reported to the Senate. "Panem will be busy in the twelve Districts for the next several years. Maybe President Isleth will even be killed. All in all, I would say my undercover agents have been quite successful, at the cost of two lives... well, two New England lives."

"But the revolution failed," someone objected. "I mean, you could hardly expect it to win -"

"I never did." Vorhees would have said this with a great sigh, Manning remembered, but he said it sharply and clippedly.

"- but won't Panem be angry at us? Now everyone throughout the twelve Districts knows we're still alive! Mightn't Panem decide it'd be safer to destroy us outright?"

"And do what? They said we were destroyed twenty-nine years ago! If they do destroy us, they can't publicly admit it! If they admit it, I don't think anyone will even believe it! And think: What support for the rebellion can they prove? As much as I would have liked to reconquer the twelve Districts, our dread missiles sat in their silos. Our army sat in the caverns. Believe me, they'll decide it's simpler to leave us alive."

* * *

><p><p>

The crisis was resolved in New England, but it was just beginning in Panem. Although the United States had shown no signs of its existence during the rebellion, thousands of people continued to maintain its existence. Revolts continued to arise in hopes of something better, even as the United States demonstrated time after time that it would not intervene, that it would not help, that revolts would be entirely vain. Many did deduce this and resigned themselves to a life of slavery. Yet hundreds, then dozens, then handfuls, of people over the years - decreasing in number, but never entirely ending - ran northeast toward what they continued to believe was the border of something better. Even as Panem pursued the fugitives with helicoptors and guns, the United States did nothing to help them. A few - a very few - managed to make it through in the first couple years; President Manning took them in. Yet Manning was not reelected; his successor closed the doors of the shelters. Any future refugees would have to fend for themselves in the New England woods. The United States would take no more risks.

* * *

><p><p>

The heroic saga of the last Year of the Games is elsewhere written: how Mr. Mellark and then-Miss Everdeen roused the sympathies of Grand Junction and forced President Snow to allow them to survive, and all twelve Districts took this to mean Panem could be defeated. Yet they were wrong. Rather, in the days of Manning, they would have been wrong.

The rebirth of the United States Central Intelligence Agency - named after a pre-War of Global Devastation spy service - is still shrouded; the current Administration refuses to release even the date of its founding, let alone the rationale for its choice of agents. One could almost be pardoned for believing that it chose agents on the grounds of their distaste for giving interviews. Based on the studies of ex-President Paylor combined with the speeches of Mr. Mellark, though, we can guess that it was established shortly after Panem's biological attack around the sixtieth Year of the Games. Almost every New Englander was worried and angry; it would only make sense for the Senate to try to gain an early-warning system in Panem. Once that was decided (as Mr. Mellark speculates), the choice of agents was almost given: almost no one from the Capitol region would be loyal to the United States, but almost no one from the Districts had freedom of movement. Therefore, the only possible agents were the victors of the previous Hunger Games.

It is not known whether the President or Senate had any qualms about enlisting murderers. The records were "probably lost in the move from Lake Pleasant," says the current Archivist; Mr. Abernathy said that the agent who recruited him had no such qualms. It is unknown whether Mr. Abernathy's testimony can be trusted, and even he himself admits the agent might have been lying.

Nor is it known how valuable the agents' work was. They doubtlessly reported on Grand Junction, but there were no major actions for them to report until after the Seventy-Fifth Games. Shortly after that, however - this is the one thing which all surviving agents admitted - events ran away from New England. Mr. Mellark and Miss Everdeen had not planned their rebellion at all. Mr. Mellark was not even aware of the United States' existence until afterwards. No one planned the Districts' uprising. No one expected President Snow of Panem to force the great majority of the US CIA operatives into a second round of Hunger Games. Yet when it was done, they were quite prepared to escape. And not even all the resources and will of Panem could keep that hidden.

It is elsewhere written how revolt rose across the country, how President Coin of the United States marched the United States Army across the border, how Panem was overpowered, how President Coin marched in triumph into Grand Junction, and how Miss Everdeen killed her on national television for fulfilling to the word Pitt's prophecy. The Senate, after another long deadlock (the Vice-President having died before the war), compromised on General Crea Paylor of District Eight as President.


	7. Chapter 7

Hello everyone, one last time! Some canonical characters are now finally appearing; I'm sorry if I don't get them quite right. But at least this's somewhat longer. Apparently, at least as I've done it, Katniss's narrative voice is a little easier than I thought. It's a lot easier to write longer passages through her eyes than in the my normal style... And thanks for the compliment on my style, **Narcissa-Weasly**, but I certainly hope you've seen something like it before. I've been trying to sort of follow the style of a history book!

So have fun! Please keep watching my profile, I'm planning to write several more things in the near future. I've got ideas for at least two more Hunger Games stories - one about an early Games, and a "what-if" story told from Katniss's point of view. Please let me know by the reviews or PM system whether you're interested in either. But now - please enjoy this final chapter of the _Unauthorized History of Panem_!

_Disclaimer: Author incorporates as if fully rewritten herein the disclaimers of the first and other chapters above and disclaims further: That the italicized quote below is from Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins; that the quote marked as from the Declaration of Independence is indeed therefrom._

* * *

><p>Correction: The previous chapter of this work stated that Coin's Vice-President had died before the war. While this was true, that fact technically did not have made any difference. Coin was killed in the winter between the Seventy-Sixth and Seventy-Seventh Years of the Games. (The war had accomplished what no other effort had done: it had canceled the Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games.) A Presidential election had already happened in November of Year 76. Therefore, the electors would already have met, voted Coin into another term as President, and chosen a new Vice-President (who, evidently, had predeceased Coin). Under the Presidential Succession Act passed before the War of Global Devastation, the new President would be the Speaker of the House of Representatives - a post long unfilled. The next successor would be the president pro tempore of the Senate. However, since Vorhees' time, the Senate had taken to leaving this position empty and electing a Chairman to preside in his place. So, the Senate had to choose a new president pro tempore who would immediately succeed to the Presidency; they chose Paylor.<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Are you preparing for another war?"<br>"Oh, not now. Now we're in that sweet period where everyone agrees that our recent horrors should never be repeated... Who knows?... Maybe we are witnessing the evolution of the human race. Think about that!"_  
>- Mr. Heavensbee to Miss Everdeen, First Year of the Restoration<p>

Congress's power to establish special courts was undisputed, as was the President's power to appoint judges and prosecutors. President Paylor presented a long list of names: real rebels from the states Vorhees had abandoned to tyranny, to decree due punishment on all who had aided Panem. The Popular Courts were appointed, and they went throughout the several states.

Yet the day after Paylor signed the bill into law, Miss Everdeen was put on trial before a military court for "insubordination" and "conduct unbecoming a soldier." "Why?" Paylor asked the Senate.

"Why, she killed the President!"

"Yeah, I know that. But why a military court?"

"It seems most fitting -"

"I thought I named dozens of perfectly good judges just the other day."

"Why, President, look at the Act you just signed. It specifies that crimes against officials of the United States Government committed before yesterday shall be tried elsewhere."

"Oh?" It was accusing.

"Here." A copy of the Act was instantly laid in her hands.

Paylor slowly read it. Her face went ashen. "Does this have anything to do with how Snow was confined in luxury, in his own house? Do you know how many soldiers I had to detail to watch every entrance, when they wanted to be celebrating their victory?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I demand that officers from the Twelve Districts be judging -"

"Really, President, why is this so important? Miss Everdeen's guilt -"

"- I've heard things from my soldiers. She may have had a good reason."

There were fourteen Senators now, two from each of the seven states of old New England. All of them were staring at President Paylor - perhaps ten in confusion, but at least four in horror. She mentally marked their names in her head: Chairman Hogan, Ms. Waberley, Mr. Sauter, and Ms. Lawgan. She was almost certain of the story, now - or, at least, that these Senators had been plotting something. But the Senate still had the power. They had the regular army; the rebels had mostly gone home now. What was more, they had instantly sent a special squad from Lake Pleasant to secure the other missile range at Mount Shasta.

"Very well," she said aloud, imagining it was the Cabinet of Panem before her. This was, after all, Panem's Presidential Palace in which Milhouse had plotted conquest and in which Haddad had decided it would be best to sacrifice a few children for national security. "Have your military tribunal, if you want it. But do let me know next time, please."

The Senators lavished on her all the promises she could ask for, and she left with apparent contentment. Yet, apparently, something had disagreed with her - she was thoroughly indisposed that evening and even summoned the eminent Dr. Aurelius. Whatever treatment he offered had every appearance of success; by the time Miss Everdeen was acquitted and discharged from the army on grounds of insanity, the President was also thoroughly recovered.

* * *

><p>Within a couple days came the Economic Recovery Act, ostensibly to rebuild the Districts after war (and also rebuild District Thirteen after seventy-five years living underground). Yet Paylor vetoed it. "Single industries in each District? Writing out here in the Capitol the number of minutes each man and woman in each district has to work each day? Am I crazy, or did we just tear this whole system down?"<p>

It was promptly passed over her veto.

Paylor's term went almost monotonically downwards from there. She fought the Senate on virtually every measure as they tried to rebuild the thousands of strands of webbing which tied each District to the Capitol. (Paylor lobbied to rename it "Grand Junction" once more and move the government somewhere else to symbolize the new age; she was roundly ignored in the Senate and pillored on television.) She vetoed almost every bill; they passed them over her veto. She hurled argument after argument at them; they ignored her. She reminded them of the written Constitution; they reminded her that the state of emergency was still in effect. Finally, she burst out, "Go ahead - come straight out and write a new Constitution saying, 'The Senate can do whatever it wants'! Just write it down so everyone sees that on paper, and stop pretending anything else!"

No new Constitution was forthcoming, though; what did come were impeachment charges. Again, the grounds were that she had disrespected the Senate. The charges failed, but only because the Senators could not agree on who should succeed her as President.

That was the end of Paylor's second year in office. She kept silent as the forty-nine army officers ostensibly forming the legislatures of the seven states of New England trooped into the Presidential Palace to ceremonially confirm the Senators in the terms which had not been properly filled by election since the War of Global Devastation. She kept silent as the prosecutors of the Popular Courts reported that all the Panem loyalists had been tried and convicted, but some of the new factory managers were beginning to act as badly as the old managers - should we indict and try them as well? She kept silent when the Senate quickly passed a bill abolishing the Popular Courts, writing on her veto message only, "He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices." She kept silent as no Senator gave the slightest sign of recognizing this quote from the Declaration of Independence. She kept silent as the bill was passed, and the Popular Courts abolished, over her veto.

But as the Senate debated whether military tribunals, or some other form of court, should be appointed in their place, she interrupted their session. "Here're all the cases pending in the First Popular Court of District Eight," she said, holding up a foot-thick sheaf of paper. "Or, they would be. People liked that court. They trusted Judge Honagon. Most of them... well, look here - two people asking about a fence. Is this some sort of important thing that needs a military tribunal? No! So let's give these people the judges they ask for. Sure, write out military tribunals if you want for the cases you really care about - but at least let people choose their own judges for everything else!"

After some deliberation, the Senate reluctantly agreed. The Districts could elect their own judges to judge all cases where the Senate-appointed governors didn't take away jurisdiction, and to write out any simple laws which were approved by the governor. Paylor proudly signed the bill into law on national television: the first bill she had approved in over a year. It would also be her last.

In the last days of Paylor's term, the same forty-nine army officers representing the legislatures of the seven states of New England paraded into the Capitol. No one save the Senate and the ever-present television cameras watched. The people of the Capitol were tired of the new government's ineptly reconstructing a system which seemed to them very similar to Panem's. The Senate was also arguing - but not over any such fundamental matter. It was merely deadlocked on who to "recommend" for President. Television reporters pressed Paylor for a statement as she stood silently observing it; she said only, "I suppose they won't choose me again, will they?"

No one expected the next entry in the confusion...

* * *

><p>"It's okay, Katniss," Peeta says. "They just want us to be there. You won't even need to say anything."<p>

"Will there be television?" I ask, the not-quite concession coming out unwillingly. I remember what a big mistake it'd been to go to the first session of the reconvened Normal Courts. Someone - I didn't recognize his face - had decided to televise the thing, and (of course) the camera spent as much time on me as everyone else put together. At least... well, they'd wanted me to be judge. I don't know why. Anyone else can put on the Mockingjay suit better now.

"No, I talked with Judge Thom myself."

"Are you sure?" I pry, trying to make sure he wasn't springing another one of his surprises on me.

"Of course not. But, please - we all want you to be there." He catches my eyes. "I do. Please?"

It's been... five years, almost? since I first noticed him looking at me that way. There were cameras then. But still, I agree. "Just don't make my speak or anything."

"Of course not."

I put on my least-Mockingjay-like coat. That title has churned back and forth in my mind over that first year. Sometimes I threw on new clothes four or five times a day, as some cut or color would remind me too well of something. Finally, though, I settled on an ill-fitting coat of ragged gray which had arrived in an anonymous box from the Capitol one day. I'm sure it's from some rebel, but I don't have the least idea whom. It's nothing like anything I wore, though. I wonder if whoever sent it knows that's why I can bear it.

So, we set out across the November snowfall to the new-built Hob, where the Normal Court meets. Some of the traders grumble about moving it, but everyone agrees that's the best place for now. The Justice Building is still a heap of ruins, and no one's suggested rebuilding that. At least it has space enough for crowds.

And there's a crowd there today. "Good," I whisper to Peeta. "We can slip into the back."

"Oh, no," he says with a smile. "They saved seats for us up front... Excuse me..." he adds to a man at the back of the crowd.

The crowd at once parts for us. I follow apprehensively. Yes, two seats on the front bench - next to Haymitch, what's more - are empty. He waves for us to sit. "Peeta..." I sigh, "I don't like the look of this..."

He smiles. "Don't worry. Would we be expecting Haymitch to make a speech?"

"You've been planning this? I thought you were looking for sugar!"

"Oh, I was. Cane sugar's coming from District 11 in December, Capitol permitting."

"You said that last week. What've you been doing since then?"

Haymitch interrupts us by laughing. "Listen to you two bickering. Just like -"

I don't let him finish that comparison. Definitely not. "I'm just trying to find out what's happening!"

"Well..." He looks around. "Hey, Thom," he booms, "everyone's here. Why don't we get started?"

Thom's voice comes from behind the half-closed door of the storage room. "All right, all right..." In a minute, he comes out in his judicial robes - a simple piece of black cloth draped around his neck. Behind him are two other men in judge's robes. I recognize them as the other two judges of the District 12 Normal Courts.

Thom bangs the gavel himself to open court, quickly reading through the formal statements as if afraid someone would interrupt given a single second's pause. I let the phrases wasp past me: "pursuant to the Act of Congress... all who have business before this Honorable Court... sitting as a legislature... necessary and proper... sole legislature for the States of West Virginia, Pennsylvania..."

I've never heard those names before. But I'm not really listening. It's a minute before my mind registers that something's out of place. I turn to Peeta to hiss at him and demand to know what's happening, but then I hear something else out of place: "... Ms. Sae, Mr. Abernathy, and Mr. Mellarck as Electors from the State of West Virginia to choose President and Vice-President of the United States; all in favor -"

Electors? President? The court we chose here in District 12 is naming Greasy Sae, Peeta, and Haymitch to choose the next President? "What's going on?" I urgently hiss at Peeta.

"Don't worry," he whispers back. "We planned everything."

"Of course I'm worrying!" I exclaim. "Are you trying to get me into another revolution?"

I meant it as sarcasm, but his face looks perfectly serious as he answers, "We don't think it'll go that far."

"Have you forgotten -"

Thom's gavel drowns me out. "Will the Electors please rise and come forward?"

Peeta squeezes my hand. "Just you watch. Do you know who gave you that coat?" Then he stands up and walks forward.

I'm now left alone on the bench. The Electors - about a dozen of them - file past the judges. Several of them are from out of town, but none of them looks surprised. How wide is Peeta's conspiracy? And what was he talking about with my coat? Thom and the other judges hand them scraps of paper and pens; they write something quickly, drop the paper into a box in front of the judges, and line up behind them.

Thom bangs the gavel again. He seems to like doing it. It's an old mining hammer; I wonder what he thinks of when he holds it. "They shall make distinct lists of all persons voted for as President, and of all persons voted for as Vice-President, and of the number of votes for each," he intones. "Mr. Mellark and Mr. Shlaes?"

Peeta and one other man step forward and count the papers. "Ms. Paylor of District 8 gets six votes for President and seven for Vice-President."

Shlaes continues, "Mr. Gregor of District 7 gets two votes for President and three for Vice-President." I've heard of Gregor on television; he's a judge of the Normal Court who seems to have fair press in the Capitol. I wonder why people chose him in particular, though.

Peeta continues, "And Ms. Everdeen of District 12 gets seven votes -"

I scream.

* * *

><p>"I'll never be President!" I scream. "I don't think I can ever see the Capitol again!"<p>

"You won't have to -" Thom tries to say.

"They'll never let me! They almost killed me last time! I'm still not allowed out of the District - how can you even think of choosing me? Without even telling me?"

The two of them wait for a minute, pacing the meadow where they pulled me immediately after Court had quickly closed, to make sure I'm done screaming. But I am - at least for the moment. I restrained myself on television then; I can keep quiet now.

"That's the point," Peeta says.

"What's the point? Are you playing some trick on me again?"

"They'll never accept you."

I try to guess what he's planning; my mind comes up blank. "But I won your election. If you don't want them to accept the results, why in the world did you stage this?"

"Simple," Peeta says with a perfectly sincere and serious face. "If President Paylor reads the Constitution right, the Senate gets to choose from among the top three people we name."

I focus on the one part of that I understand. "You've been talking with Paylor?"

"Why, she dreamed up this plan. I think she was thinking of it even when she proposed the Normal Courts Act."

"Oh."

"So," Thom continues, "all of us from across Panem got together to decide who we wanted to be President next. It needed to be someone the Senate wouldn't reject outright."

"And you chose..." Well, with that criterion, the answer was obvious. "Gregor?"

"Right on the first shot," Peeta says. "Next, we needed to choose two other candidates they'd reject out of hand, so they'd only be left with Mr. Gregor."

"Oh. So that's why you chose me."

Thom nods.

It feels strange to be chosen especially because the Capitol hates me. But isn't that why I've been chosen for everything since those first Games? "Are you hiding anything else from me?" I challenge Peeta.

"Of course," Peeta says. "Like the person who gave you your coat..."

"Tell me," I sigh.

"Paylor herself. It was her own coat; she asked if you'd like it."

* * *

><p>Obviously, someone must have arranged for every Normal Court around the country to vote for the same three candidates. Suspicion quickly focused on Elector Peeta Mellark and Miss Katniss Everdeen, though neither of them had left District 12 in the prior half-year. Several judges were questioned by District governors, but none of them admitted even the existence of such an arrangement. The ever-loquatious Raven family claims to have orchestrated it on behalf of Miss Everdeen; Miss Everdeen denies ever meeting them.<p>

The Senate, meanwhile, looked at this fait accompli with shock. They looked even more aghast at the Normal Courts' implicitly abrogating to themselves all the powers of State legislatures. But even as they promptly repealed the Normal Court Act, the Capitol was cheering. "The new government has at last done something new!" one television reporter exclaimed, proceeding to gush forth the life histories of the three candidates and the story of the American Constitution. Mass meetings in all Districts and the Capitol cheered for the Normal Courts.

Against this backdrop, the Senate reconvened in closed session to consider their original quandry: whom to nominate for President. After several days, they finally surrendered to the least bad option: Judge Gregor. With that announcement, they officially adjourned. President Paylor, in her last official action, pocket-vetoed the repeal of the Normal Court Act.

President Gregor took office with the greatest national popularity ratings since the War of Global Devastation, but the greatest hostility in the Senate...


End file.
